It was so long ago,
But God can make it now,
And as with that sweet overflow,
Our empty hearts endow;
Take, Lord, those words outworn,
O! make them new for aye,
Speak—“Unto you a child is born,”
“I have loved thee with an everlasting love.”
Dear is the lost wife to a lone man’s heart,
When in a dream he meets her at his door,
And, waked for joy, doth know she dwells apart,
All unresponsive on a silent shore;
Dearer, yea, more desired art thou—for thee
My divine heart yearns by the jasper sea.
More than the mother’s for her sucking child;
She wants, with emptied arms and love untold,
Her most dear little one that on her smiled
And went; but more, I want Mine own. Behold,
I long for My redeem’d, where safe with Me
Twelve manner of fruits grow on th’ immortal tree;
The tree of life that I won back for men,
And planted in the city of My God.
Lift up thy head, I love thee; wherefore, then,
Liest thou so long on thy memorial sod
Sleeping for sorrow? Rise, for dawn doth break—
I love thee, and I cry to thee “Awake.”
Serve,—woman whom I love, ere noon be high,
Ere the long shadow lengthen at thy feet.
Work,—I have many poor, O man, that cry,
My little ones do languish in the street.
Love,—’tis a time for love, since I love thee.
Live,—’tis a time to live. Man, live in Me.
“Blessed are ye that weep now.”
Weeping and wailing needs must be
When Love His name shall disavow,
When christen’d men His wrath shall dree,
Who mercy scorn’d in this their day;
But what? He turns not yet away,
Not yet—not now.
Let me not, waken’d after sleep,
Behold a Judge with lowering brow,
The world must weep, and I must weep
Those sins that nail’d Thee on the tree,
Lord Jesu, of Thy clemency.
Let it be NOW.
Let us have weeping NOW for sin,
And not us only; let Thy tears
Avail the tears of many to win;
Weep with us, Jesu, kind art Thou;
We that have sinn’d many long years,
Let us weep NOW;
And then, waked up, behold Thy face,
Who did forgive us. See Thy brow—
Beautiful—learn Thy love and grace.
Then wilt Thou wipe away our tears,
And comfort in th’ all-hallow’d spheres,
Them that weep now.
“Art Thou He that should come?”
Jesus, the Lamb of God, gone forth to heal and bless.
Calm lie the desert pools in a fair wilderness;
Wind-shaken moves the reed, so moves His voice the soul,
Sick folk surprised of joy, wax when they hear it, whole.